Overnight, the best root canal ever turned into a throbbing mask of pain on the left side of my face in spite of ibuprofen. Mid morning I called the dentist office and asked for some relief which I picked up at lunch. Since I was working I only took half which didn't even begin to touch it so I downed the other half on the way home. There is nothing like that kind of pain to make you humble. It's hovering around 7 or 8 right now which is most definitely not a smiley face on the chart.
The folks cleaning out Casa Grands finished this morning after two days of phone and text tag. They respectfully placed family items on the bar for us to go through later. It's empty now, with voices from the past whispering to each other inside the log walls. There is a trailer to empty which will fall to me because somebody "doesn't have the time." That's fine. I've done most of it anyway.
I eased back into the sawmill today and did okay until my face started hurting and then it just turned into a struggle to get away for some pain relief. I cruised on down to lock up the house one.more.time. and was met by neighbor Gerald wanting to know how we're making it which, of course, got me to crying.
Meanwhile, I'm car hunting believing that the trustee will allow me to purchase a car sometime. The wheels turn slowly, you know. Some kind soul and I can't remember who, suggested to me recently that I live in the past too much. I suppose that's because I'm a writer and story teller and that's the material I draw from....what I know. History as therapy, so to speak.
My husband always told me that I think too much which is probably true. I have enough rebel in me to question authority and the way things are when there seems to be injustice which is a whole helluva' lot of the time. My goal should be to not give a shit and cover my own ass I suppose.
Of course today's big news is old what's his name who asked "what is Aleppo" and had to be reminded about what we all know is happening there. It is a humanitarian crisis of epic proportions which we had a part in creating.
This is my last day as a 60 year old, moving forward to 61 with no fanfare. Just another day, as they say. I share a birthday with a co-worker and her twin sister and we told each other happy bday eve on the way up to our respective floors. I call her sister, but there's a whole lot of others that get called that too.
Peace and love ~